


Charmed, I'm Sure

by chatonne-rousse (thefullbeaumonty)



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir Identity Reveal, Aged-Up Character(s), Denial of Feelings, Dorks in Love, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Identity Reveal, Love Confessions, Making Love, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug Identity Reveal, Secret Identity, Sexual Content, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-12 11:35:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29384259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefullbeaumonty/pseuds/chatonne-rousse
Summary: Friends with benefits.  It's right there in the name, and it's what they are -friends.  Best friends.  This is just a way for two consenting adults to relieve stress after akuma fights, with the only person they'd trust with this level of intimacy.  Really, what could go wrong?  (The real question is, what could go right?)
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 55
Kudos: 325
Collections: ML Secret Valentine 2021





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the ML Secret Valentine Exchange, where my recipient happened to be my dear friend, [the](https://twitter.com/oriollie?s=09) [inimitable](https://instagram.com/oriollie?igshid=u1r449b7dcjn) [Oriollie](http://oriollie.tumblr.com)! 
> 
> Ollie, I truly hope you enjoy this little story, my first-ever chapter fic! I thought I'd keep your gift going all weekend instead of posting it as a long one-shot like I usually would. любовь и объятия! ❤️

The hotel’s balcony doors have barely closed behind them and she’s already wrapped in his embrace. Ladybug welcomes his hands at her hips and threads her fingers through his wild hair, smiling a little as he sighs against her lips.

As they’ve gotten older, akumas have become more difficult and the lack of progress in defeating Hawkmoth has become more frustrating. At some point, Ladybug and Chat Noir discovered they needed a way to blow off some steam and work off the adrenaline after a hard-fought battle. When they were younger, if they could, they’d meet up after a quick recharge to play a game, talk it out, spar a bit, or just sit in companionable silence until they felt ready to return home.

They still do those things from time to time, but somewhere along the line, an unexpected kiss on patrol led to a post-akuma makeout and a long, awkward discussion. That, in turn, led to a birth control prescription, some questionable choices involving the physical limits of their suits, and a discussion about public indecency. If that discussion ended with a lot less talking and a lot more actual public indecency, well...neither can say they regret it.

Nowadays, they have all the privacy they want, and “meet me in ten” involves a quick rooftop jaunt to the fifth. Every time she swings silently from the roof down to the terrace of their room, she wonders how a first-year university student is able to secure the same suite at all times, morning or night, in a chic boutique hotel in the Quartier Latin, but she refuses to dwell on it. She always knew her kitty came from money, and anyway, this is about letting go for a little while, not digging deeper.

Tonight’s akuma was worse than most, leaving Ladybug with a feeling of exhaustion that no swarm of miraculous ladybugs could reverse. She can see the same reflected in Chat’s eyes as she kisses him once more, softly, before backing away and turning toward the bathroom.

“Do you have your mask?” she asks over her shoulder.

He nods vigorously. “Of course, My Lady.”

“Good kitty.”

She knows just what she’s doing when she turns to give him a cheeky wink and isn’t surprised to see the room fill with vibrant green light just as the door latches behind her.

This routine is second nature now - a quick detransformation, cookies for Tikki, and her clothes stacked in a neat pile on the bathroom windowsill, any monograms or cherry blossoms folded and tucked away within her black blazer to keep her identity safe. She knows that when they can, he loves to take his time removing her bra and underwear and she’s usually happy to indulge him, but tonight, the two lacy pink undergarments are left with the rest of her clothes in the bathroom. She’s already tingly with anticipation and ready to join him, but she’s so, so tired. Tonight is about release and nothing more. She doesn’t think she can handle much more than that, honestly.

Meeting her reflected gaze in the mirror, Marinette quickly ties her second-most important accessory around her head. The deep red handmade mask, a perfect contrast to his black one, has found a constant home in her purse since this… _arrangement_ with Chat Noir began. It’s a soft bed for Tikki and a useful tool to have.

The one and only time she forgot it at home was still memorable, though. And how could it not be? The expression of pure bliss on his handsome face as he came is seared in her mind forever. It wasn’t the first time she’d done that - she discovered months ago the heady and addicting power of having complete control over him from her knees. But Ladybug is no fool. She knew full well that the image of her lips around his cock, her tongue swirling around the head before engulfing him again, one spotted hand circling his shaft to make up the difference and the other splayed across his hip to keep him still, would fuel his masturbatory fantasies for ages. That was raw power, and she loved it.

(Only Tikki knew the record speed with which Marinette had dropped from her skylight to the bed that night, detransformed and stripped nude, and gasped her climax courtesy of her trusty vibrator, and she’s not telling. Only Marinette knows that was the first time it was Chat Noir - well, Chat Noir’s masked civilian self - she saw behind her closed eyelids as her orgasm washed over her.)

With a shared smile and a quick pat on Tikki’s head, she leaves the bathroom just as Plagg phases through the wall, somehow holding a wedge of stinky cheese in each paw. Marinette smiles at the greeting of, “Hey, Sugarcube!” that she hears behind her as the door clicks closed again.

Her grin widens at the sight of Chat Noir on the other side of the room, naked but for his mask and hopping on one foot to frantically pull off his other sock. His clothes are in a haphazard pile on the already-turned-down bed, so she glances away while he rolls them all in his jeans and throws them on the desk chair. He doesn’t pay any mind to the errant sock that falls on the floor, because he’s already on his way around the bed to meet her.

Just as a few minutes before, her fingers thread through his silky hair while his hands, now bare and strong and warm against her skin, find her hips again. He pulls her flush against him as their lips collide once more, a zing of sweet anticipation flowing through her nerves and settling in her belly.

By now, this is a well-practiced dance, even though the steps are improvised each time they meet. Muscle memory guides their hands to just the right places to elicit a gasp, a moan, or a playful swat and a cheeky wink behind the mask. Lips and teeth and tongues find the sweet spots known only to each other, though neither ever marks the other’s skin, honoring an agreement made on a rooftop months ago, just before they’d made good use of the fact that Chat’s suit can be at least partially unzipped.

It isn’t long before she has him beneath her on the bed, warm and solid and breathtaking, his strong hands on her hips and even stronger thighs flexing against her ass as her slick heat traps his erection between them. His head thrown back on the pillow and eyes squeezed shut behind his mask, he growls, “Such a tease, Bug,” before biting back a groan when she slides forward and notches the head of his cock at her entrance.

Ladybug takes pity on her partner, watching his eyes snap open to meet hers when she finally sinks down on him. She takes him to the hilt, stretched and full and _oh god, perfect_.

His heartbeat pounds against her palm, his fingers grip her hips, and she lets sensation take over, knowing without doubt that she can trust her steadfast anchor to keep her moored as she allows the current to sweep her under.


	2. Chapter 2

“Oh my god, Chat,” she pants, a tinge of desperate need at the edge of her voice. “There… _harder_!”

He obliges his lady, of course, and she arches into him as much as she can with her ankles at his shoulders and her hands fisted in the sheets. She’s close, but not close enough, even with Chat’s increased tempo. Reaching an arm above her to grasp the pillow, she snakes the other between them to help herself along.

As if the feel of him filling her and the sounds of their bodies coming together wasn’t erotic enough, the slick slide of his erection against her fingertips ramps up her arousal. She glances down the plane of her stomach to where their bodies meet and nearly comes undone at the sight of her fingers working her clit and his cock, framed in trimmed golden hair, disappearing into her over and over again at the vee of her thighs.

Judging by the strangled whine that escapes his throat and the way his mouth falls open, he felt her surge of arousal just as acutely as she did. His bottom lip looks so kissable, but he’s too far away to do anything about it. Instead, she closes her eyes and rubs faster, harder.

“My… _oh_ , my Ladybug,” he pants, lost on the rising tide of pleasure they’re rushing toward together. “ _Fuck_ , I love you, My Lady. Oh!”

Her nearly-crested orgasm drops away as her fingers’ rhythm falters momentarily before she focuses and tries to bring herself back again.

Ladybug is grateful that he can lose himself in her like this. With immeasurable trust between them, she can let go of her mountain of responsibilities for a little while and be an oasis of touch and care in the desert of her partner’s life. It’s liberating and restorative and it feels so, so good in his strong arms (and straddling his lap, bent over in the shower, held firmly at the edge of the desk…). But every murmured declaration of love, every whispered “ _j’adore_ ”, is a reminder of what’s between them. Or rather, what isn’t.

She loves him, of course. They couldn’t do what they do as heroes if she didn’t. But it’s the effervescent love of having a giggle fit with your best friend, the sweet, soft love of talking through a problem with the only other person who understands the struggle of this particular double life. It’s the fierce and fiery love that blazes in her soul when he’s hurt in battle, sparking the need to protect and avenge that nearly overrides her innate kindness and justice. Most of all, it’s the deep, unwavering trust born of years of partnership. That’s what fills her heart when they come together like this, and why she can give herself to him this way.

But it’s not a _coup de foudre_ in the warm September rain or the electric brush of fingertips in the hand-off of a peace offering. It’s not a plan-the-wedding-and-name-the-kids kind of love, an epic romantic fantasy. It's not the first love she just can't seem to get over, no matter how hard she tries. 

Her feelings toward her partner exist in an entirely different space - boxed up, walled off, compartmentalized, and above all, completely different from her feelings toward Adrien. Night and day. Marinette would know - she's told herself so, over and over, as many times as she's told Tikki. She and Chat Noir are friends. Best friends! 

Friends with benefits. (And oh, the _benefits!_ ) 

That's all.

So when Chat Noir whispers his love into her hair, breathes it against her sweat-slickened spine, groans it to the ceiling with his hands gripping her ass while she rides him, she can only hold him closer and clench him tighter inside. She moans her pleasure and gasps his name, but _because_ she loves him and would rather die than hurt him intentionally, she never returns the sentiment.

Leaping across alleys or fighting evil, laughing together or climbing in tandem toward release, she is always acutely aware that she holds the entirety of his precious heart in her hands. The slide of his skin against hers as his fingers work their magic is a very tangible reminder that he has every inch of her physically, but she just can't relinquish her own heart to him. Not yet.

Tonight, he spares her any more thought of the true desires of her heart.

He wraps his fingers around the plush headboard and grips tightly for leverage, gently swatting her hand away and taking over the delicious circling pressure on her clit.

Suddenly, her mind is washed clean and sheer pleasure fills the space instead. There’s no room for emotions or overthinking. All she knows is his body meeting hers over and over, Chat Noir inside, above, and between. Harder, faster.

This is exactly the release she needed.

She lets go of everything - responsibilities, akumas, unrequited love - and allows the wave of her orgasm to carry her away, where the weight of the world doesn’t feel quite so heavy on her shoulders and where Chat is always, always there to catch her.

When he feels her walls contract around him, he slows his strokes and stills the motion of his hand but keeps the pressure on her clit and continues to fuck her through her climax, prolonging her pleasure as much as he can while chasing his own.

His thoughtfulness is not lost on her as she trembles with the fluttery aftershocks and looks up at his determined face. She reaches up to cup his cheek and brush the bottom edge of his mask, and his eyes snap open. Wide green meets warm, satisfied blue before he leans forward to capture her lips with his own.

Bent nearly in half and thankful for her incredible flexibility, she grabs his ass and uses what feels like the last of her energy to bring their bodies together for two, three more shallow strokes before he presses his pelvis tight to hers and kisses a breathy groan against her lips as he spills inside her.

She rubs his back and he gives her sweet, short kisses as they come down from their high. His satisfied smile grows with each kiss until she giggles and swats his sweaty shoulder.

“You do realize I’m a human pretzel right now?” She raises her eyebrows and their noses brush.

He tucks his chin over her shoulder as best he can with her legs between them and pretends to snore. “Shhhh, cat nap time.”

Laughing, her fingers dig into his sides where she knows he’s ticklish and he pulls out and disentangles himself from her with a laugh, flopping bonelessly onto his back. She giggles when the mattress bounces, her bare legs dropping to the sheets, cool and comfortable against her sweaty skin.

Post-battle adrenaline finally worn off, exhaustion creeps in on soft kitty paws to take its place. They've always purposefully avoided pillow talk after sex; Chat never declares his love in the afterglow, and Ladybug is grateful. These are the moments when "friends with benefits" feels most real - the benefit of mutual release and the ironclad trust between best friends. Sometimes they set their alarms and settle in for a nap. Sometimes they talk shop and strategy. Often they make fun of Hawkmoth's terrible fashion sense and laugh at his general ridiculousness.

Sometimes they find a second wind and go again, but she can feel her eyes slipping closed already and simply can't imagine another round tonight.

Chat laughs quietly beside her and she turns her head to see his muscular forearm slung over his eyes.

"That might've been the ugliest costume I've ever seen on an akuma. What do you think, Bug? Did you see his shoes?"

Ladybug hums in agreement and closes her eyes once more, letting his voice lull her further toward sleep. She stretches out lazily, tired muscles searching out a cool spot under the duvet that hasn't been warmed by their bodies yet. When her ankle meets an unexpected, unknown object amidst the crisp cotton, her pleasure-fuzzed brain is suddenly alert, and she follows her first instinct to reach down and retrieve it.

Sitting up to grab the mysterious item beneath the covers, she feels Chat's warm hand at her back, tracing her spine gently before heading lower and kneading a cheek like an incorrigible cat.

She can't help but smile at his antics, but her grin freezes and her brow furrows in confusion as her fingers find smooth cord and hard plastic - or maybe wood? Her first thought is sending an anonymous comment to the hotel about the cleanliness of the room, until she straightens and looks down at the object in her hand.

Pink, green, blue, and red, the colors as familiar as the soft green eyes of the boy she gave it to all those years ago, she knows immediately that her very own charm bracelet is curled in her palm. Well, it _was_ hers. It has long since belonged to...

_How_ and _why_ and _holy shit_ clash with the sudden rush of her pulse behind her eyes in a vortex of emotion that makes her lightheaded and blurs her vision. 

Sheer panic drowns the immediate confusion as her heart rate speeds along with her breathing. 

_"Oh my god"_ , her mind shrieks on repeat, crescendoing to a staticky roar. 

Chat's hand stills. 

"You okay, Bug?" 

She couldn't answer if she knew what to say. Words wouldn't make it past the lump in her throat. 

"Hey...LB?" He sits up beside her, his tone taking on a worried edge. "What's wrong?" 

Ladybug turns, tears gathering in her unblinking eyes, to meet the very green, very familiar eyes behind the black mask she made on her own sewing machine eight months ago. 

He glances down at her hand, gaze sliding immediately over to the pile of clothes on the desk chair before traveling back up to her wide eyes and down at the bracelet again. His usually-flawless skin pales, leaving previously sex-flushed cheeks a blotchy red. 

"Oh," he whispers. " _Shit_." 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this was supposed to be a three-chapter story, but this one got away from me so I have an epilogue to post tomorrow. I didn't think anyone would mind a little extra!

“I can explain,” he says quickly, reaching for the bracelet in her hand.

She closes her fist around it and clutches it to her chest as the first tears fall, wetting the lining of her mask. His hand changes course to awkwardly rub the back of his neck instead.

_Breathe in through the nose. One, two, three, four._

_Hold it. One, two three, four._

_Breathe out through the mouth. One, two, three, four._

Nope. Not working. Of course it’s difficult to ground herself when the last six years of her life are playing like a movie sped to double time in her mind. The situations are familiar, but she sees them in a new light, with new recognition, as they zip by. Chat Noir on a candlelit rooftop with a beautiful red rose and his heart laid bare, just for her. Chat Noir encouraging her time after time when her bravery faltered. Chat Noir erased from time, turned to pixels, cataclysmed by his own power turned against him. Chat Noir in white, in a timeline she still sees in nightmares. Chat Noir in New York, disaster at every turn. Of course he was there. _Of course_. She’d made it happen! 

Chat’s hand reaches for hers on the duvet and holds it tight. The warmth of his touch spreads across her skin like a balm, a reminder that he has been steadfast since the very beginning, no matter which name either of them goes by. Her racing heart calms bit by bit as the seconds pass, the silence of the room broken only by her carefully measured breathing.

The film changes, but speeds to triple. Hundreds of times she should’ve seen it, should’ve realized. Times she felt like she blinked and Adrien was replaced with her partner, ready to battle beside her yet again. One memory flies by, halts, and circles back to play again: Adrien trusting Ladybug so completely that he risked falling to his death, knowing with absolute certainty that she would save him. _Adrien_. Not Chat Noir. And suddenly, it makes sense.

The depth, the breadth, the infinite span of his love and loyalty to her explodes with brilliant clarity, the shockwaves rattling the walls of the sealed-up room whose contents she’d been refusing to acknowledge. 

When that door bursts open, flooding her heart with the feelings she’s held back from her partner for so long, it’s all just too much. She drops the bracelet to the duvet to cover her still-masked eyes with her free hand and sobs.

“I’m so sorry, Ladybug,” he murmurs, contrition evident in his voice. “I fucked up. I’m sorry.” He grips her hand tighter, though his own hand shakes a bit. His last words are no more than a whisper. “I’m so, so sorry.”

She shakes her head and tries to speak around the lump in her throat. Her voice comes out an ugly croak, but that’s okay. The words are more important than the way they sound, anyway.

“It’s okay, Adrien,” she begins, finally looking up at him again to see his eyes widen. It was one thing to know, and quite another to acknowledge it aloud. “I mean, it’s not okay, it’s terrible.”

His face falls, somehow looking even more devastated than a moment before.

“No, no. That’s not what I meant.” She takes a deep, shaky breath, gathering the covers to her chest in a sudden bid for modesty. He catches the charm bracelet as it slides down the duvet toward him, his hand closing around it like a precious treasure. She watches his eyes drift closed for just a moment, a tiny, peaceful smile playing on his lips.

Another layer, soft pink and gentle as warm sunshine, falls over her perception. _Oh_.

“That’s why you never saw me as more than a friend,” she whispers. It’s not what she intended to say, but the words come unbidden. “You were in love with Ladybug. Because you’re Chat Noir. Just like I never saw Chat Noir because I was in love with Adrien.” Fresh tears fall, trailing from beneath the mask. She gathers her courage and looks him directly in the eyes. “But I did see Chat Noir. And you--” she reaches out to cover the hand holding the charm bracelet. “You saw Marinette.”

His brow furrows in confusion. “Marinette?” He looks down at his closed fist, then back up to meet his partner’s gaze again. “How did you know the bracelet was...?”

It takes a long, long moment for the truth to finally dawn in his eyes. “Marinette,” he breathes, reverent as a prayer.

Steeling her courage, she reaches behind her head to find the end of the ribbon tie and pulls. Their secrets have already been laid bare, but this feels like a final barrier, one last shadow to step from, never to return to the dark. It’s terrifying and freeing in equal measure.

She watches his handsome face crumple behind his own mask in the second before he tears it off and wraps his arms around her. The duvet falls in the shuffle, their bodies pressed together skin-to-skin, but all she can focus on is the shaking of his shoulders under her palms and his voice at her ear, cracked and wavering with emotion.

“Marinette,” he whispers again. “I dreamed it was you! I hoped and wished and _dreamed_ , and I was _right_! But...oh my god, we wasted so many years. We could’ve been…” He heaves a shuddering breath. “I’m so sorry, Mari. I’m so sorry.”

 _How quickly the tables can turn_ , she thinks, rubbing circles on his back and soothing him with a quiet “shhhh” and a kiss to his shoulder. “We’ve been stupid,” she concedes, and he huffs a watery laugh, “but we’ve always been together, _Minou_. You and me against the world. You have nothing to apologize for, aside from being careless with your things because you were too excited to get in my pants.”

That garners a real laugh from him, though she’s woefully unprepared when he leans back and fixes her with a purely Chat Noir smirk, somehow simultaneously out of place and perfect on Adrien’s unmasked face. “I don’t recall you wearing any pants when you walked out of the bathroom, Princess.”

She giggles even as her cheeks flame, and her first instinct is to cover them with her hands, but he catches her wrists before they reach her face and presses a gentle kiss to her palm. The sly grin transforms into a warm smile, his red-rimmed eyes softening to match. _He’s beautiful like this_ , she thinks. _Real and present and perfectly imperfect, her friend and partner, the other half of her soul._ Five minutes ago, it seemed like the world was falling apart, but now the pieces slot into place, connections as strong and secure as her yo-yo string.

“I knew I would love whoever was under that Ladybug mask.” Adrien lets go of her wrist to wipe his eyes, but she doesn’t pull away. He leans his cheek into her palm with a sniffle. “I always knew you were special, Marinette. Of course it was you. It couldn’t be anyone else.” His eyes well up again, but Marinette catches the spilling tears with her thumb. “I denied the hell out of it, but I loved you already, Mari. My Lady. It was always you.”

Her chest constricts with emotion, a grin so wide it hurts blooming on her face. But before she can respond, a tiny, sardonic voice comes from behind her.

“That denial he’s talking about? That was to me, Pigtails.”

Plagg zips across the room to hover over Adrien’s shoulder, and he can’t help but laugh, even as he wipes his eyes and sniffs again.

“And Nino. And Alya. And my father…” Adrien trails off, his face paling.

The charm bracelet he gave her for her 14th birthday suddenly dangles in front of Marinette’s face, held by her own kwami. Tikki drops the bracelet to the covers and smiles. “Oh, Marinette. I told you you were in love with Chat Noir! You just didn’t want to admit it!”

She cradles the beloved bracelet in one hand and pats Tikki on the head with the other. “Yes, yes, you were right. Go gloat somewhere else, Tik.”

Tikki winks at her holder, not subtle in the least, and grabs her other half to zoom back to the bathroom, Plagg grumbling halfheartedly about cheese and mating as he goes.

Adrien and Marinette just look at each other and laugh. What else can they do?

What else but give in to the magnetic pull that has always drawn them together, the inexorable attraction of two halves seeking to be made whole.

And that’s exactly what happens, lips meeting once more in a kiss that speaks from the corners of her heart, his own confession echoed back in waves. They fall back against the sheets again, wrapped in each other. His lips blaze a trail along her jaw, behind her ear, and down her neck.

“Mari?” he breathes against her skin. “I know we agreed on no marks, but--”

The desire in his voice sets her nerves alight. “Do it, _Chaton_. I want to be able to see it tomorrow and know this wasn’t a dream.”

He groans. “Fuck, My Lady.”

“Mmhmmm.”

He swears again before putting his lips and tongue to work, and oh, it’s _divine_. Marinette wonders vaguely why they made such a stupid agreement in the first place if it kept her from feeling like this. She can feel the evidence of his arousal as her own ramps up under his touch and reaches between their bodies to stroke him. His gasp is gratifying as always.

Satisfied with the masterpiece he’s painted on her neck and shoulder, he presses his lips to hers again, moaning softly when their tongues meet. 

Marinette loses herself in her partner again, but this time it’s not about stress release or letting go. With nothing to deny and nothing to hold back, this is simply the exquisite freedom of giving him her body and her heart at once, just as he has since the beginning.

When he pushes inside her once more, it’s with her hands clutching his shoulder blades, his arms cradling her head like a halo, both of them doing their best to erase every bit of distance that separates them. He begins a languid rhythm, barely pulling out but pressing deeper, harder, on each stroke as her body moves with his. Kisses are planted like a field of wildflowers across her collarbone, up her neck and under her chin when she finally throws her head back, breathless.

She could live in this moment forever, bottle the feeling and wear it as a perfume whose origin only they would ever know. Years of love and devotion swirl between them, physically the same two people they were when they came together thirty minutes ago, but completely different now. 

Four equals two equals one has never made sense before today.

She knows now that she’s been kidding herself all along that this was only physical, but it never felt like this before. The connection is so much more than their joined bodies. Ladybug and Chat Noir have shared encounters in this very room that included gentle caresses and pleasure found after a sweet, slow build-up. But _this_? This is making love. It hits her in a heady rush, lighting up her senses and making her clench around him.

Marinette meant to tell him before they became entangled again, but was interrupted by a tiny supernatural agent of chaos. She imagines she'll have a lifetime to love him and tell him so, but she can't go another moment without finally speaking the words she's been terrified to say for so many years.

“Adrien… _Chaton_ ,” she pants at his ear. “I love you so much. I always have. I always will. You’re my--” Marinette gasps as he hits an especially sweet spot that makes her toes curl. “You’re my everything, _Minou_.”

His rhythm falters momentarily. “Please, Mari, don’t make me cry while I’m literally inside you.” She can hear the smile in his strained voice and can’t help but giggle. He lifts his head and presses a lingering kiss to her lips. “But you know I love you too, Maribug.”

She laughs again, elated. “Let’s revisit that nickname later.”

“Deal,” he agrees with a grin, before reaching one hand back behind her knee to change the angle at which they meet.

Her eyes roll back, her mouth falls open, and suddenly, there’s no need for words anymore. They let their bodies speak for them instead.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This concludes my very first chapter fic! It was certainly an interesting experience. Thanks for sticking with it these past few days. 😘
> 
> I hope you enjoy this little epilogue.

“Did you really dream about me?”

Adrien nods against her hair. “I did. I was so sure it was you so many times, but then you'd do something to throw me off the trail again, you clever bug." He snorts a quiet laugh. "I drove Plagg crazy. I just hope he wasn’t paying attention to _those_ dreams, because I had a few of those, too.”

Marinette laughs and looks over her shoulder at him. “You horny tomcat!”

He has the good grace to blush, at least, but his laughter vibrates along her spine. “You have to know you’re beautiful, Mari. In spots or pink or...otherwise.” His fingers trace patterns on her bare hip, letting her know exactly what _otherwise_ he’s thinking of.

“I want to hear all about your fantasies, _Chaton_. And someday I’ll tell you mine.”

He takes the bait, as she knew he would.

“Do these fantasies involve a magical cat boy with a belt tail, by chance?”

Marinette can just imagine the eyebrow wiggle that went along with that question.

“Maaaaybe. But...more like a _man_ in magical black leather whose gloves have claws, so he can only use his mouth.”

A beat of silence, and then, “Have mercy on me, Bug. I can’t go a third time.”

“God, no,” she laughs. “I’m exhausted.”

She threads her fingers through his and brings their joined hands around her chest, hugging him close. She smiles when he sighs happily. Glancing around the room, she takes in the familiar setting, realizing she’s going to miss the bird-printed accent wall, the flower-filled terrace, and even the little thrill of secrecy that comes with having what could be called - apropos of the wallpaper - a love nest.

“Now I know how you could afford this room, Mr. Cover Model. I guess you’ll be saving a lot of money now that we don’t have to meet in secret.”

He hums in agreement. “I could put it toward an apartment instead. A few bedrooms, a place for your sewing machine, lots of light. We could finally get a hamster.”

Her head turns abruptly, finding his eyes filled with tentative hope. “Do you mean that?”

He nods. “I almost asked you to marry me about ten minutes ago, so I would say the sky’s the limit right now.”

Marinette can feel her face heat up. “Adrien, ten minutes ago, we were--”

“I know.”

“At least buy me dinner first.”

Adrien kisses the shell of her ear, still red with her blush. “That can be arranged. Tomorrow night? 7 pm?”

“It’s a date.” She smiles, her heart positively singing with happiness and hope and possibility, though she can’t pass up a bit of mischief. “Can we still come back here after?”

“My Lady, this room is ours until Sunday at noon,” he purrs.

“Better make the most of it, then.”

Marinette turns in his arms to snuggle closer, but finds yet another unknown object bunched beneath her. This time, it’s his black fabric mask. They both look at it before she tosses it toward his forgotten sock near the desk, no longer necessary. Hers is tangled somewhere in the sheets, too, along with both their charm bracelets. She’ll have a second meltdown over these facts later. For now, she simply returns to Adrien’s arms.

“So, Bugaboo...I guess you fell for my _charms_ after all.”

The groan she lets out is a reflex at this point. “You’re still on thin ice for that, Mister. I can’t believe your secret identity was blown by way of a charm bracelet.”

“It’s my second most prized possession, Marinette.” He tucks her hair behind her ear, Miraculous ring glinting in the light of the bedside lamp. “I’ve taken it everywhere I’ve gone since the day you gave it to me. Do you really regret finding it today?”

She looks into his eyes, earnest and sincere, and can’t do anything but shake her head. “Not one bit.”

His grin lights up the space between them. “Neither do I.”

It’s a shame to wipe away a smile so beautiful, but Marinette decides it’s worth it and stretches up to kiss him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I'm the kind of writer I am, the setting of this story is a specific room at a specific hotel. I did so much research that I now get TripAdvisor alerts for the place in my email. 😹 If anyone can figure out where it is, I'll write a lovesquare ficlet of your choice to the first person who gets it. (Or we can just let it be a mystery! That works, too!)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [chatonne-rousse](https://chatonne-rousse.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr. Come say hi!


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